Mein camp: holiday retreat for Nazis gives Germany a hangover

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Like the British, the Germans have a certain idea of what
seaside towns should look like and Binz, on the island of Rugen, is
one of the best examples of it. Strung along a wide Baltic beach
are grand, turn-of-the-century spa resorts, white wooden
guesthouses and modern chain hotels, all fronted by an orderly
promenade that seems purpose-built for gentle strolling and the
exchanging of pleasantries.

Stroll north up the beach for an hour, though, and you come to a
very different coastal utopia. Partly obscured by pine forest lies
the hulking carcass of Prora, known locally as "the Colossus".
Prora was built by the Nazis, and as leisure resorts go, it is both
chillingly prescient and terrifyingly huge.

It consists of eight identical, rectangular six-storey
buildings, three of which are now in ruins, curving around the bay
in a neat arc. Each block is about half a kilometre long.

Prora was designed to accommodate 20,000 visitors in 10,000
identical rooms. They are small by today's standards and each would
have contained two single beds, a washbasin, a cupboard and a
simple window looking out to sea.

Bathrooms and kitchens are housed in smaller wings at the back,
so on the seaward side, the building presents a monotonous facade,
broken only by dining room segments every 100 metres or so. The
effect is almost hallucinogenic: you can walk alongside Prora for
half an hour and wonder if you've gone anywhere at all.

Until recently this bizarre structure was virtually unknown by
the outside world. In East German times it was used as a military
base, so you would not have been able to find it on a map, let
alone visit it. After reunification, it passed into the hands of
the German Government, which has not really known what to do with
it.

On the one hand, it is a well-preserved symbol of the Third
Reich at a time when Nazism is by no means extinct. But
architecturally, it also represents the grand realisation of
modernism's wildest fantasies. Alternatively, it's a hulking ruin
on one of the best stretches of beachfront real estate in Germany.
Should it be torn down and restored to its original state, left as
it is, or adapted to another use?

Judging by its current state, the answer seems to be all of the
above, although a new project could see Prora open to guests in a
few years time.

Nobody ever holidayed at Prora during Nazi times. Building
started in 1936 as part of the party's "Kraft durch Freude"
initiative ("strength through joy"), whose aim was to provide
leisure activities for workers.

Hitler's architect, Albert Speer, oversaw Prora's design
competition, which was won by Clemens Klotz, more on the strength
of his party connections than talent.

Last year Germany's official youth hostel organisation, Die
Jugendherbergen, announced plans to instal its own youth hostel in
part of Prora. The bidding last year was won by Atelier Kempe
Thill, a firm run by two young East Germans.

The project could be seen as fulfilment of the Nazi vision for
Prora, but youth hostel entrepreneur Oliver Thill, 33, claims to
have been unburdened by history.

"This kind of thing is not so important any more. I cannot
change history, and it wasn't good but I also don't feel
responsible for it."